


They are How They are

by BrotatochipDG



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Best Friends, Emotionally Repressed, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 03:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrotatochipDG/pseuds/BrotatochipDG
Summary: Basically just a cute, short work about how much these two idiots love each other but would never expressly state it. Because, ya know, emotional repression.





	They are How They are

Simmons did as Simmons does. He curled himself into a ball, the cheap, thin, military sheets chafe his skin and irritate the seam between metal and flesh, and he very consciously does not cry or whimper or make any embarrassing sound.

Grif did as Grif does. He flopped himself onto his bed, and if he was anyone else, he’d be uncomfortable with the dozens of food wrappers that crinkled beneath him, but he was who he was and promptly began to snore loudly, although it’d be quite a while before he fell asleep for real.

Grif and Simmons did as Grif and Simmons do. They listened to each other breathing, each facing the wall very pointedly so as not to look at each other, and fall asleep after a long while, thinking of the other.

They’d been orbiting each other for years. “You ever wonder why we’re here” feels as if it’s tattooed into the back of their eyelids. Simmons feels the slipping grip of Grif’s hand in his, feels the seconds before he lost his best friend as freshly years later as he did when it was happening. Grif remembers the heated, rushed passion from a locked closet and can still feel Simmon’s lips ghosting across his neck when he thinks of him.

Their friendship was unlikely, however not quite as unlikely as the rest of their lives, so they don’t dwell on that all too much. Carolina and Caboose had a weirder friendship, Donut and Tucker were surely a more bizarre match. When thinking of this, they somehow never include the fact that none of them have passionately screwed in a locked closet with rough I love you’s pushed into each other’s mouths as they kiss for what was definitively not the first time. But what was left ignored didn’t count as real, so there’s no need to include that in the summation of their friendship. 

So, laying there, facing awkwardly away from one another, they dream of hushed whispers and fleeting touches that they’d never mention in the waking hours of the day. They dream of pushing their mattresses together and facing each other each night, falling asleep in each other’s arms instead of picturing it nightly. They dream of rings hidden beneath their armor, of knowing looks across the room and blushes they know are there despite being hidden by their visors.  
Maybe one day, Grif would take Simmons to Hawaii. It might be the only place in the universe that could get the poor man to relax. Maybe one day, Simmons would take Grif back to the Vegas Quadrant and trade vows instead of gambling and drinking themselves to oblivion. Maybe one day, they’d tell each other about the small moments that meant the world to them, and swear to live their lives in search of more.

Grif and Simmons, to an outside observer, would look like disgruntled friends, staying together because pressures of the war thrust them into a close proximity to one another and not because they particularly like each other. But it’s proven wrong every time Simmons screeches complaints at Grif, calling him a good for nothing fat-ass, and Grif only has soft eyes and half-cocked smile in response. It’s proven wrong when Grif remembers to take off his shoes before entering their shared room, because Simmons knows that it’s the most effort the man would put in for anybody, and he cleans their room silently instead of yelling at Grif because he can’t bring himself to fault even that most minimal amount of effort. It’s proven wrong when one of them is injured or nearly killed and the other loses all humor to be there for the other, and when no one’s looking placing a soft kiss on the other’s temple or shedding a tear or two because one living without the other wouldn’t be fair.

Sarge never had a clue. Neither did Washington, and Tucker was unlikely to have known because he never made jokes about the two of them hooking up. But Donut knew. He had an eye for these things, and took pride in knowing his teammates well. It’s the one and only thing he won’t gossip about or give them advice on, because it’s so fragile, so unspoken, that Donut is scared to be the one that breaks it before it ever truly becomes real. 

Caboose, somehow, also understands. He asked Simmons once to tell his “husband” to make sure he stopped using his room as a place to nap while hiding from Sarge, because he’d leave mysterious sticky wrappers and crumbs everywhere. Simmons just stood and stuttered awkwardly while Caboose merrily skipped away.

Sometimes they both picture everyone else’s reaction. Sarge would probably want to throw a literal shotgun wedding just for the chance to shoot Grif. Wash and Carolina would politely congratulate them, overshadowed by Tucker screaming pent up gay jokes at them. Caboose would forget the announcement 10 minutes after it happened, plus he apparently thought they were married anyway. Donut would cry and hug them both too lightly. Lopez could probably not care less either way.

It makes them both wonder, at night, facing away from the breathing body that gives them comfort, what they’re hiding for. What they’re waiting for. Why they never make it real, make it solid, make it last. But they both continue to hide, knowing to themselves how much they care about one another, even if it may be a long time, if ever, until one of them takes the first step. Because year after year getting closer with your best friend, you don’t really need the spoken word to be understood.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written any RVB fics and let me tell you, I'm ready to get back into the swing of things. Lemme know a ship or prompt you'd like to see me write about and I'll happily do so. My creative brain is back, baby!!!


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